


Sunshine Riptide

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Series: Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, I don't know how to tag this, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, birthday fic, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: Pete can't help but dote on a sleeping Patrick in his own special way after he hears whispers running through the currents....Prompt(s):"MerA who spends their time grooming MerB carefully making sure their hair is free from tangles and they have no dead scales, has a clean tail""MerB basking in the attention, allowing the other to do as they please as they nap in the sun"





	Sunshine Riptide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laudanum_cafe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laudanum_cafe/gifts).



> A belated Birthday present for [laudanum_cafe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laudanum_cafe/pseuds/laudanum_cafe)!! it was inspired by a post I saw on her tumblr and I kinda just ran a little with it. I hope you enjoy and had a wonderful day filled of love, hon! 
> 
> This fic is unbeta'd so all errors are my own. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Excuse me…sorry…pardon me…” Pete mutters quickly as he weaves through the throng of merfolks. Pete can’t seem to remember when he swan this fast, urgency and determination, coursing throughout his veins, fueling his movements, the brute force of every flick of his fin as he propels himself though the ocean water with lightening speed, a flash of garnet red, tan and black zigzagging through.

 

Gods, when was the last time he swam so fast?

 

Maybe it was when Andrew got caught in the lines of some of the human’s crab trap, hearing his younger brother’s cries for help as his fin got caught in the sharp lines that the cage was hanging from after Pete had warned him not to get to close during their inspection of the human traps, making sure that they didn’t take more from the ocean than what was necessary. Pete and his father had raced to the youngest of their clan, freeing him easily with nothing but a few scales missing from his deep blue tail.

 

Or maybe it was when Patrick had gotten caught in a fisherman’s net all those years ago. Pete was sure his heart would beat right out of his chest, swimming as fast as his tail would take him as he, Andy, Joe, and several of their friends fought their way to free the freshwater merboy from the net that entangled him on one of their many explorations, disregarding what the elders had warned them. They were young and reckless and curious by a fault. They should not have gone near the net, should have just swam away, but they made it a game, a childish dare to swim through the rising weave of fishing line and rope. Patrick had been the last, unwilling to risk it, hesitant and unmoving, that is until the teasing challenge of _“Don’t be such a guppie”_ was thrown at him. Patrick’s anger at the insult turned him a delightful shade of red, eyes narrowed and mouth forming into a dangerous scowl to the delight of the other boys. They had known that if he was challenged, Patrick would not back down; he would not be dared called a _guppie._

 

So he did just they had done, he swam into the narrow passage of the net. He was nearly all the way through, his body gliding easily through the dangerous patters of the line, but before he could make it out, his tail was caught in the ascending net, which, at Patrick’s tug of his tail, in an attempt to free himself, began to rise faster. The red in the younger boy’s cheeks vanished into a ghostly white, eyes filled with terror.

 

Time stood still in that moment. Pete doesn’t remember thinking, only remembers _doing_. He remembers shouts, Patrick’s hands reaching towards him and the other’s, blue-green eyes wide with horror, and Pete’s body working automatically to reach him, blood pounding in his ears. He had beaten them all, armed with human blade that he found while out on patrol with his father that he always kept on him he managed to free his closest friend from the rising net with a few harsh cuts to the line.

 

He tries to shake away the memory as he swims, clearing his mind, trying not to imagine that Patrick might have been the one the one involved with the incident. He needs to swim as fast as he can if he wants to get to Patrick.

 

There had been whispers running through the currents, whispers that the freshwater clan had an incident, a possible poaching attempt with a siren and a few merfolks.  Thankfully, the current is on his side today; he glides through the waterways with familiar and grace that came from a lifetime of navigating the salt water of the coasts.

 

He needs to reach the estuary fast. He needs to see if Patrick was okay.

 

If he timed it right, if he followed the course of the sun traveling through the sky, shining through the ever changing ocean waves from underneath, he should make it when the sun was at its highest.

 

He swims until he feels the slight change in the water, the salt of the ocean slowly starting to mix with lake water. Being from a Coastal Clan from nearby, Pete is used to the difference in water by now, familiar with the way that the water seems cooler and his lungs adjust to the lack of salinity in the water, he and his clan has been traveling to the Estuary all his life, coexisting with the Freshwater Clan.

 

He rushes he makes his way through the coastal marshes and through the vibrant kelp forests until he reaches a familiar underwater cove. He halts to catch his breath, looking around him out of instinct before swimming slowly into the cave, as if not to cause too much of a disturbance in the water around him. It’s only a few flicks of his tail that stops and sighs, his body sagging as relief washing over when he see him. It looks like he’s bathed in a cloak of shimmering gold, light of the sun filtering through water above from the opening of enclave above, napping on a flat rock covered in soft kelp in the middle of the space, the light casting a heavenly, ethereal glow through the cove and over the sleeping merman.

 

As quietly as he can, as to not agitate the water around him, Pete makes his way over to the rock, over to Patrick sleeping soundly, his own heart slightly racing as he looks over at Patrick’s face, smiling as his fingers trail down the side of his cheek, before he carefully looks over the rest of him with inspecting eyes, fingers ghosting down, following the soft, smooth curves of his side, until they reach the familiar splattering of deep cerulean scales that begin just above the small of his back. He fusses of his every inch of Patrick’s tail, running fingers over each iridescent scale, watching the colors shift from cerulean to green with the movement of the water, looking for any signs of injury. While Pete finds none, much to his relief, he’s careful to pluck out any dull or damaged scale that could be hindering the brilliant hue of the other’s colorful tail.

 

Pete’s diligent as he is careful, making sure that no scale goes unchecked, no possible scratch or injury goes unattended goes unchecked. Once he’s satisfied with his work, he lets out a breath, allowing himself to lay down beside the other merman, nestling himself against the curve of his back, watching the steady breathing of the other, Patrick resting from his day of protecting the lakes, rivers and estuary from any unwelcome guests, human or otherwise.

 

Pete knew how important Patrick’s role as a member of his clan given the title of Siren was, and the fact that he was one of four chosen because of his gift of music and magic to help protect the clan and the freshwaters they inhabit, as well as the neighboring coastal waters, more specifically, the waters inhabited by Pete’s clan, from danger.

 

It was very similar to Pete’s own role as a Guardian, he was part of the front line, chosen and trained like his father before him to guard and protect the merfolk of his clan along with several others. While Pete might not be as strong as Andy or Joe, he was fast, and his agility in the water and with a human blade often worked in his favor, making him a valuable asset to the Guardians of his Clan, who were very much his brothers and sisters in arms, his closest friends.

 

But none of them, with the possible exception of Andy and Joe, had as strong as a connection with him than Patrick.

 

And for as long as he could recall, he and Patrick had been friends from the beginning. Their fathers were friends before them, so it would make sense that the strong bond between them would transfer to their sons, both having grown up in the same waters, causing trouble and mischief along with a handful of close friends in the estuary where they spent much of their youth and adult life, even though as they’ve grown older, they each grew into their own roles.

 

However, one role that neither could shake, was the one that drew them together in the first place, a bond that was stronger than their fathers, one that no one could have predicted, yet none were surprised. The role being that Patrick and Pete were—

 

“Are you okay,” Patrick asks softy, his voice laced with sleep and exhaustion as he rolls over to his other side facing Pete, drowsy blues of his eyes meeting Pete’s own warm brown. “Did something happen? Where you being chased?”

 

Pete shakes his head, as he wraps an arm around the sleeping Siren, placing another kiss to the crown of his cinnamon-blond head as Patrick curled into the dark haired Guardian’s tan chest. “Nah, just trying to get here as fast as the current would take me. I heard about what happened today and I wanted to make sure that my mate was okay.”

 

Mates.

 

Inseparable, soul-bonded, _mated_.

 

Pete, a Guardian of the Coastal Clan, and Patrick, Siren of the Freshwater Clan, were mated.

 

Mating wasn’t uncommon between the different clans, it just hadn’t happen in a while, but their fathers must have known from the moment they met, they must have known that their souls intertwined, that they would be inseparable until the end of time, that they would be bonded as more then friends.

 

But a Guardian and a Siren mated? Both their clan leaders were incredibly pleased, not to mention their friends were ecstatic over the coupling.

 

Patrick simply nods, eyes drift back shut as he rests against the Guardian. “I’m fine, I was there when it happened, but I wasn’t involved,” he explains softly, tucking his head further into Pete’s shoulder, lips kissing the dark marks there, designs etched into Pete’s skin, decorating his body with swirling designs that mark him as a Guardian for all to see. “A human caught sight of one the guppies playing close the surface, and tried to catch her, but she swan and called for help, the human had a harpoon though, but he couldn’t shoot it worth a damn,” he yawns, “But Brendon and I were able to get rid of him and make him forget everything. The poor girl wouldn’t let go of Bren, she was hysterical, but I don’t blame her.”

 

“Neither do I, I remember not wanting to let go of you when we got you out of that net when we were younger,” Pete recalls, feeling Patrick nod and sag against him. “I’m glad you’re all safe.”

 

The blond only replies with another nod and yawn before drifting back to sleep, Pete’s fingers carding through cinnamon gold locks, rubbing soothing circles into his scalp as he feels Patrick fall deeper into a slumber.  Subconsciously, Pete continues his ministrations, however this time, as he runs his fingers through silk like strands, searching for any knots that might have formed in his beloved’s hair with deft fingers working them out in loving motions, careful not to tug or to wake the sleeping siren beside him.

 

Once he’s done with his hair, he gives his body another glance over, just for good measure before an idea floats into his head. He smiles as he places his lips lovingly to his temple before moving away, much to Patrick’s displeasure from the soft, unconscious whine that leaves him at the loss of contact.

 

Pete swims easy around the cove, gathering small shells and leaves from wayward kelp, as well as swims outside in order to look or other items, finding interest in some seemingly human items that occasionally drift onto the sea floor. When he swims back into the cove, he tears part the kelp leaves into four large strands, carefully twists them into two separate sturdy chains, attaching small human trinkets, like a small circular metal pieces, ‘coins’ is that Pete thinks they’re called, into the kelp on each, along with some shells. It takes a bit of trial and error, but he happy with his work.

 

While Patrick’s still sleeping, he carefully slips one of the kelp chains around his tail, just above his fin, tying the kelp into a secure knot, grinning as the light flittering form the opening above causes the coins to glimmer ever so slightly, the white and beige of the shells playing beautifully against the blue of his scales. With the other, he moves up, wrapping and knotting it around one his wrists, kissing the soft underside of it when he finishes his work, and curling around the Siren.

 

Pete expects that when Patrick wakes, he’ll look at the new additions, he’ll scoff slightly and roll his eyes, but he’ll smile and kiss the older merman, flicking his tail to and fro underneath the sunlight, a smile gracing his lips as the coins glitter against his tail and against the cream of his wrist.

 

What he doesn’t expect is that when he wakes from a nap in their cove a day later, bathed under the warm sunlight, is the band of kelp and thin rope around his upper arm, intricately braided with expert precision, decorated with river smooth rocks and smaller round fake colored plastic pearls and beads that he knows female humans sometimes.

 

He stares at it in awe, watching the beads catch the sunlight, the kelp and rope comfortable yet snug on his skin. “Oh, you’re awake,” Patrick smiles as he swims back into the cove, causing the Guardian to turn.

 

“Did you make this?” Pete asks, eyes returning back to the band on his arm.

 

Patrick nods, “Figured I’d adorn my mate with something pretty, since he was kind enough to gift me with his own handy work,” he laughs, a hand running through his hair, the kelp bracelet still on his wrist, the one around his tail also snuggly in its place. “Plus I thought it looked nice.”

 

Patrick is stopped mid-laugh by the crashing of Pete’s lips against his own, melting into his mate under the glittering sunlight, smiling.

 

Pete could not have asked for a more perfect mate.

 


End file.
